After the Fact
by Phx
Summary: A Devil's Trap tag. NOT a deathfic but just a little ditty set after the accident and before the rescue.


This is my attempt at a tag for Devil's Trap. As always, I don't own the characters or make any money from this. Phoenix

**After the Fact**

Pain. That was the first thing he noticed as he started to regain consciousness. Tremendous pain like a scorching fire through his body as he tasted copper in his mouth. Blood.

_Damnit._

Slowly, he forced his eyes open with a groan. Everything was quiet around him except the faint hissing coming from the front of the car. _'Damn'_, he thought, _'radiator'_. He swallowed with difficulty, the lump in his throat almost as big a hindrance as the blood in his mouth. His poor car.

But then – _fuck the car_. Dad! Sammy!

Unable to move, he forced his gaze towards the front, his heart stopping as he saw the two lifeless men in front of him. He couldn't get a great view of his father's face but Sam – oh god Sam's face was covered in blood and the angle his head was lying at – Dean felt sick. At what point had everything gone so fucking wrong?

"D-Dad," his voice was a whisper, its weakness unnerving the young man. He was messed up enough before the accident, thanks to that shit-eating demon, but now – now he really didn't want to think about it.

Dots of yellow tinted his vision and he knew he wouldn't be conscious much longer.

"S-Sammy," he tried again, sounding even weaker this time. But like with his father, his brother didn't respond either.

Tears welled in Dean's eyes, he did not want to do this alone. He could not be the last surviving Winchester. No – he refused.

Forcing a shaking hand into his coat pocket, he fumbled for his cell. They needed help and it was up to him to make that call. He thought briefly about the driver of the other vehicle _– a friggin' semi truck of all things_ – and wondered if it _had_ been an accident or something else. Maybe another possession.

'_Oh great,'_ he thought, _'that's all we need.'_ Of course he was being sarcastic. It was the only way he knew to be when he was too scared to think straight and in too much pain to care. He eyes followed the blood slowly creeping down the back of the passenger seat and he fought back another wave of nausea. His brother's blood. Baby Sammy's blood.

'_No!'_ his mind shrieked, _'it will not end like this.'_

With an impossible effort, Dean slowly pulled out his cell, feeling slight relief when he hit the call button and heard the dial tone. They had reception. His fingers were clumsy on the numbers as he pressed 9-1-1 and then heard the first ring go through.

'_please help us,'_ he thought and then passed out. The last thing he heard was a woman's voice…

"_Emergency Services, how can we be of assistance?"_

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Missouri Mosely bolted up in her bed.

"Noooo!" she screamed, holding her head and rocking at the intense pain she felt. It took her a moment to realize that it was not coming from her but from someone else.

Taking a deep steadying breath, the robust black woman forced her mind past the pain, seeking whoever had called her.

It took a few moments to recognize the signature. It was one that she had never had contact from before, but one whose mind she had touched briefly enough to remember his essence.

It was Sam Winchester.

"Oh baby, " she whispered getting such a vivid mental imprint of his last moments of consciousness she actually staggered to the bathroom, dropped to her knees and was sick.

His last thought had been for his brother, bleeding in the back seat.

With no time to waste, Missouri heaved herself back to her feet and hurried downstairs. She needed to reestablish a link with the young hunter and to do so now, she was going to need help. _Power stones_ – they would act as an amplifying force, allowing her to see through Sam's eyes although he was unconscious. And hopefully this way, she could help them.

Hurrying to an old armoire, the older woman plucked out a red stone, a blue stone and a green stone and then shoved her coffee table out of the way, sat down on the floor cross-legged and held the stones in her lap. Closing her eyes, she focused all her energy and thoughts on the dark haired younger son of her old friend, John Winchester.

"Come on Sam," she whispered, feeling her body go into a trancelike state as her mind searched out the boy, "let me in…"

She found him but his mind was closed tight. Her brow crinkling in concern she spent precious moments trying to mentally nudge him to a closer level of consciousness so she could get in. But it didn't work.

_Oh poop._

Reluctantly she let go of the contact and opened her eyes, hastily climbing to her feet and lurching back towards the armoire. She had other power stones, including a black one that she had never used before and prayed she would never have to. It was a death stone.

Pushing the death stone away, the psychic grabbed a clear stone and then sat back on the ground, adding the clear stone to the mix. Closing her eyes again, she sought out Sam and this time gained easy access, the clear stone slicing right through the barrier to his vulnerable young mind. He was too far away physically for her to 'break' in by herself.

"Come on Sam," she whispered, "show me something." And when he did, she was suddenly very glad that he wasn't awake because the pain he had to be in would drive her out of his mind.

By proxy, Missouri was able to look around, using Sam's own untapped powers as a base. She couldn't make him move or wake him up but she could see what was going on around him and it sent her heart lurching into her throat.

The first thing she saw was her dear friend John. He was unconscious and she could sense that he was fading. He needed help and quickly.

Then she saw Dean and actually gasped out loud. His life light – his aura – was dim and she could almost feel the reaper hovering. It made her so cold, she shivered.

And then she heard someone coming towards the car, their footsteps heavy and purposeful. Whoever they were, they weren't worried about stealth and that terrified the woman. She sensed a dark presence and knew it was no one to rescue the Winchesters.

Oh God, she realized with mounting horror, she was going to have to do that herself. Or more precisely Sam was going to have to and he wasn't in much better shape then his father.

In fact, as Missouri did a mental evaluation of the youngest Winchester's mind she suddenly felt incredibly alone. _Where was Sam?_ She should have felt his essence in here somewhere…

"Shit," she whispered gripping the stones so tightly in her hands, she couldn't even feel them anymore, "this is _not_ good."

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

The possessed driver walked steadily towards the damaged black car. He had to get the gun for his father.

Approaching the vehicle, he could see the three men were either unconscious or dead and he didn't really care which, although he knew his sire would grieve the loss of one of them anyway. He had such plans for that boy.

Moving towards the wreck, the man tried to sense the colt but couldn't. In fact he couldn't sense anything about the car at all except what he could see and he scowled as he saw the hand drawn symbols on the trunk. A Devil's Trap.

Damn. They were smarter than he'd given them credit for.

However, just because he couldn't get in the trunk himself, did not mean it still couldn't be opened. He would just need the proper leverage. His interest was now piqued by the men in the car and he moved towards them.

Crouching down by the driver's side, he cocked his head and looked at them one at a time. They were a mess. Still breathing, he could easily tell, but definitely old cold.

Hmmm… this complicated things. But a complication was not an impossibility, it just needed to be approached in a bit of a different way.

_Eennie. Meenie. Minnie. Mo… which gets possessed, I do not know…_

Standing up again, the man knew what he had to do. Scanning the three victims, he chose one.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Missouri knew before it happened that the man would choose Sam. It made the most sense. The boy had already been possessed once before and it had left a marker, like a beacon, on his soul and this man honed in on it. Not to mention the conduit his psychic abilities made him anyway.

The woman had no idea what this man was looking for but sensed it had great value and that Winchester's were protecting it. Her presence in the youngest hunter's mind would help propel the attempted possession but without Sam's essence, she would not be able to keep the demon out for very long.

_Where was he?_

Missouri knew that for Sam not to be in the forefront of his own mind, even while he was unconscious meant he was either concussed or worse.

When the psychic mind suffered any kind of brain trauma, it withdrew deep into itself as a protective measure. And that was definitely what the boy had done. He was withdrawn.

Calling softly, she tried to coax him back out and to reassure him that she was here to help and would not take advantage of him right now. But still the boy didn't respond.

Instead she felt a widening chasm with each attempt she made to call him and immediately stopped. She had experienced this one time before and prayed she was wrong – but either way she didn't have time to do anything else. The demon was approaching.

Missouri focused all her strength into Sam's mind, trying to throw up a strong defense but the pressing darkness of this spirit was heavy and she knew it would soon drive her out and then use Sam to get whatever it was seeking.

Unbeknownst to her, Sam was actually still carrying the colt on him…

And then the sound of approaching rescue vehicles heralded a reprieve. The spirit withdrew and then was gone.

"Oh thank goodness," Missouri whispered as she broke off contact with Sam and hurried to her feet. She knew where they were now – or at least where they were being taken and she needed to be there.

In her heart and mind she had no idea what the outcome of this was going to be; whether or not John or Dean would survive. She was only sure of a few things:

The first being that Sam would survive, however – she threw on clothes and hastily packed a bag – when he regained consciousness he was going to need a lot of support and understanding. Something neither Dean nor John would be in any shape to provide, in the beginning, because when that boy opened his eyes, he was going to have questions…

The first one being – _Where am I?_

And the second one being – _Who am I?_

Sam Winchester had amnesia…

The End


End file.
